


If the Fates Allow

by chapscher



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas, Fluff, Happy Murder Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 06:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chapscher/pseuds/chapscher
Summary: It has been several months since Hannibal, Will, and Abigail fled Baltimore and went into hiding. The small family has decided to keep a low profile until the manhunt dies down.





	If the Fates Allow

**Author's Note:**

> A gift to [rrimu](http://rrimu.tumblr.com/) for the [Hannibal Holiday Exchange](https://hannibalholiday.tumblr.com/post/167361285700/hannibal-holiday-exchange-2017-a-digital-fannibal). Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Evening settles early in late December, the dark outlines of leafless trees and evergreens carved against a dark gray sky. Roads and walkways were muddy black trenches carved thigh-deep into the snow and covered with salt. The lonely cabin was like a ship adrift on a dark sea, golden light from the windows creating a soft glowing halo in the snow around it. A porch light turned on; a beacon from the small ship cutting through falling snow.

“She’ll be home,” Will said, barely looking up from the fishing fly he was tying.

“She said she’d be home before night.”

“It’s only 6:30.”

Hannibal stood at the front door, his head nearly touching the glass as he tried to look as far down the road as he could. There were no streetlamps this far out into the country. There was barely anything in the isolating wilderness. It had taken days for the snow plow to even come near their small cabin. It was a lonely place, Abigail the only one able to risk going into town for food and supplies.

“She mentioned wanting to hunt again,” Hannibal said, absently patting his hands against his flour-covered apron. He had been periodically walking back and forth from the kitchen to the door for about an hour now, each time more and more flour and sugar appearing on his apron and shoes. “She was brought up with the hunting tradition, after all. Perhaps she expects us to go with; make it a sort of father/daughter outing.”

“Are you suggesting we get her a rifle for Christmas? Just how are you going to do that?”

“I never much cared for guns,” Hannibal continued. “They're impersonal and… distasteful. But I would like to teach her how to properly butcher a deer or a quail.”

“A deer,” Will echoed. “After the Hobbs case I always imagined you as a deer. A great stag covered in raven feathers. And in my encephalitis-inflamed mind I saw it everywhere. I saw you everywhere.”

“Do you still imagine me as this creature?”

“From some angles I can see where the antlers attach to your head and how your legs would curve down into cloven hooves.”

Will set his fly-making furs and thread aside as he joined Hannibal at the door. There was a small fogged patch against the glass where Hannibal had stood perhaps a bit too close. Will dragged his fingertips over the masking tape he used to seal the loose and cracked wood around one of the glass panes, a constant but subtle reminder that he needed to properly fix it one day. He planned on sometime in spring, when the wood stops warping with the changing seasons. That is, if they hadn't moved on by then. The tape went on the window soon after they settled down in in late October, which still felt like it was only a few days ago.

Time moves quickly when the world shifts and collapses around you.

“Of course I want to give Abigail something for Christmas,” Will said, still looking at the tape. “Of course. When I filed for parental rights I dreamed about the holidays with her and everything that could mean. I don't know. I guess I was so confident that I would be a good father to her.”

“Your paternal instincts have always been strong, Will, at least for as long as I’ve known you.”

“And I almost forgot about Christmas. I nearly completely overlooked this time that I've been fantasizing about for years. And here I am and she's… she's out running errands and I’m carrying on like it's any other time of the year. It still sort of feels like we’ll have to pack up everything and move again, but if I really want Christmas to be special to her then that shouldn't matter, should it?”

“I think it only speaks to how deeply you do care about her,” Hannibal said. “You want to give her something special, even in this hectic time. I promise you, there will be a day when we will have the freedom to give her the love she deserves to see from her fathers. The summer has many long days for fishing and cooking as a family.”

Will smiled to himself and leaned against the doorframe, looking up at Hannibal. “You know, I can’t help but to think that you’re not just talking about Abigail when you call us ‘her fathers.’ It always feels like you’re implying a relationship we have not only with her but to each other. Father and father. So that makes us what?”

“We are family, Will. Aren’t we? And to me that is enough.”

“Does it bother you that we haven’t had sex?”

Hannibal said nothing, his defined lips closed tightly as his eyes stopped their constant scan of the road.

“You think I haven’t noticed that every place we stopped to hide in had only two beds?” Will asked, taking a small step closer to Hannibal. “We’ve been here for three months and the master bedroom still only has a queen-sized bed. You can’t tell me that you enjoy sleeping on the couch.”

“We make it work,” Hannibal said, looking down at Will. “Besides, you mentioned wanting some time to yourself, particularly at night.”

“I said that our first week of running,” Will said. “We’re grown men, we should be able to share a bed without worrying that it would lead to anything but sleep. Or is that what you’re worried about?”

Hannibal sighed, studying Will’s eyes and smiling faintly to himself when Will made no move to look away. “You knew me better than I thought you did. After you were released from Dr. Chilton’s care you knew exactly which of my instincts you could appeal to.”

“You weren’t subtle.”

“It was a bruising revelation to learn that so much of it was done for Jack’s benefit. Was that you who sat across from me and took the ortolan into his mouth and lied about killing Freddie Lounds? Or do you draw the line between those two sides of yourself somewhere in or before then?”

“I draw that line right down the middle,” Will said, reaching up and lightly tracing a line from the dip of Hannibal’s throat to the top button of his shirt. “It was me who was flattered by how intensely you watched me as the Armagnac slid down my throat.”

Hannibal’s eyes drifted shut and he nearly imperceptivity held his breath. Under his fingertip Will could feel Hannibal’s heart race. Will’s hand not moving to wander any further or pull away, Hannibal’s eyes fluttered open as he gazed searchingly down at Will.

“Tell me what you need, Will.”

“I’m curious,” he said, meeting Hannibal’s eyes again as he took his hand away. “I don’t know what I want when it comes to you. I don’t want to… to tease. But I do want to test the waters. I know I’ll want to stop, but I don’t know where. Not yet.”

“Tell me what you need, Will.”

Will bit his lip, standing close enough to Hannibal to feel the heat from his body. Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will, lightly dragging him away from the door. He bowed and touched their foreheads. Will dragged his hands down Hannibal’s sides and slipped them along his body, fingers nimbly untying the bow that held his apron.

“Upstairs,” Will said.

Hannibal nodded obediently, letting his apron fall to the ground as Will led him through the small living room and to the steps leading up to the master bedroom. The steps creaked until Will’s feet, the only sound in the still house as the wind picked up outside. He could hear snow billowing against the walls and windows. It was always during storms that he remembered how isolated they were in their cabin. But he was safe. Protected from the freezing winds and growing snowdrifts.

Alone with Hannibal.

Will opened the only door upstairs and stepped into his bedroom. How many times had he stripped down and collapsed onto the mattress, body aching from standing in the stream all day and his mind drifting to the man who now stood beside him.

When they first moved in he would lie awake in bed, the pendulum of light in his mind sweeping across the room until he fantasized Hannibal standing at the foot of his bed. He imagined not being able to move as Hannibal slowly climbed on top of him, the kisses he left along his body all tongue and teeth. He imagined his own blood on Hannibal’s lips and desperate, needy gasps between the two of them as what little clothing he wore was pulled from his body. In the beginning he imagined Hannibal biting off flesh as he tenderly caressed his hair. But over the weeks this turned into a rough and ecstatic fucking, Will’s legs spread wide and body too weak to protest. Unwanting to protest. However this fantasy ended Will always came back to his senses drenched in his own sweat.

“Are you alright, Will?”

Will glanced up, realizing that he had been staring absently at the bed. They stood fully clothed in a room that Will’s mind had filled with moans and helpless lustful cries. He backed Hannibal against the door and pressed their lips together. The fabric of Hannibal’s shirt bunched under Will’s hands, trembling fingers not sure if he wanted to drag Hannibal closer or push him away.

The kiss was soft and chaste, but Will was nearly whining in his throat when Hannibal hesitated to return it. As Hannibal’s lips gently moved against his own Will couldn’t help but to wrap his arms around the back of Hannibal’s neck. He hummed contentedly as their first kiss merged into the next and the next, Hannibal holding him close and long fingers tangled in the soft curls of his hair.

“Is this too much?” Will asked against Hannibal’s mouth.

“No.”

Will guided Hannibal away from the door and towards the bed, their breaths both hitching as the back of Hannibal’s legs hit the mattress. They fell slowly onto cold sheets, Hannibal’s body laid out on the bed and Will straddling his hips. Will’s kisses trailed off of Hannibal’s lips and down along his jaw until he buried his face in the crook of Hannibal’s neck and simply breathed deep. He smelled of burning wood and chocolate; of hazelnuts and nutmeg. There was a soft little whine in the back of Hannibal’s throat as Will repeatedly kissed his neck.

“We’ve gone so long without ever touching,” Hannibal said, his voice low and reverberating against Will’s lips. “Yet in my fingertips it was as if I could always feel your pulse whenever I looked at you. Whenever I thought of you – miles away. We’re the same, Will. We have the same heartbeat, the same warmth. The… the…“

Will’s wandering hands stopped on Hannibal’s chest, lightly fingering the top button of his shirt before opening it. Words dissolved like snowflakes falling onto warm hands as Hannibal’s breaths caught in his throat. Will kissed the soft sensitive skin behind Hannibal’s ear as strands of chest hair brushed against his fingertips. Hannibal moaned, quiet but trembling with relief.

Will kissed Hannibal on the lips again, tongue slipping into his wet warm mouth. Strong hands caressed down Will's back, warm and heavy as they wandered down and pulled at the hem of Will’s shirt.

“Is this what you thought it would lead to?” Will asked as he sat up, his weight dipping the bed on either side of Hannibal's hips. “Are these the urges you’ve been forcing yourself not to follow these past eight months?”

Will smiled to himself and unfastened the buttons on Hannibal's shirt, exposing more coarse silver hair. The fabric of the shirt fell on either side of Hannibal’s chest, pooling onto the bed around him. Hannibal looked breathlessly up at Will as Will pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it aside.

Hannibal gripped Will by his waist and all at once Will was dizzy with the sensation of skin against skin. Hannibal dragged him back down on top of him, their cold bodies growing warm to each other's touch. Breaths came as needy moans as they held each other close and slowly rolled on the mattress until Will found himself between Hannibal and lightly rumpled sheets.

“It all speaks to this power you have over me,” Hannibal said against Will’s jawline as he laced his fingers into dark curls. “I’ve needed you, Will. What's more, I needed you to want me. I’ve had countless fantasies of bringing you into my bedroom after one of our dinners back in Baltimore. But I could never bring myself to ask that of you. You made it so it wasn't my place to ask. And I can't begin to describe the anticipation in my blood when you let me butcher Mason Verger in your living room, with you by my side and the two of us only a few hesitant steps away from your bed.”

Hannibal’s breaths ghosted against Will’s neck as he grinded the distinct bulge of his arousal against Will’s own. Will gasped and put his hand in the middle of Hannibal’s chest, shoving him. There was a sudden stillness between them, Hannibal propped up over Will and the two of them barely touching.

“Was that too much?” Hannibal asked, his voice low and comforting.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Will.” Hannibal sat up and looked down at Will one more time before lying down beside him. “You said you wanted to see how far your urges could take you.”

“They take me farther than that,” Will said, turning to face Hannibal. “Just… all at once it was…”

“It’s alright.”

“Could you hold me?” Will shifted in the bed until he was close enough to Hannibal to kiss his shoulder. “God, it sounds like I’m doing this to mess with you. But I… I really want you to hold me right now.”  

Hannibal nodded and draped an arm over him, the two resting together while the rush and heat slowly dissipated into the cold of the room. Breaths fell warm and steady between them, Hannibal humming contentedly as Will nuzzled against him. Will’s eyes drifted shut and he sank into the pillow beneath his head. He  on the very edge of sleep when he heard the soft crunching sound of a van slowly approaching the house.

“Abigail’s home,” Hannibal murmured against Will’s hair.

Will hummed, his body heavy and slow to move under Hannibal's embrace. With each little noise outside he was torn between Abigail and the warmth of the man beside him. The sound of wheels on a driveway. A car door opening. Closing. The click of high heel boots. Keys. The front door opening. All was surrounded by a quiet settling of snow and steady heartbeats. All until he and Hannibal heard a shaking, sobbing, strained:

“Da? Papa?”

Will was pulled from his drowsiness in an instant, he and Hannibal quickly getting out of bed. Hannibal opened the bedroom door first, hands moving quickly between the knob and the buttons on his shirt. Will pulled on his t-shirt and followed Hannibal down the stairs to the living room.

Abigail stood in front of the still-open front door, tears in her eyes and blood staining her white knitted gloves.

“Abigail?” Hannibal said, his voice steady. “What happened?”

She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a low, choking sob. Stained hands flew to her mouth, muffling cries. Hannibal gently guided her away from the door and took her into his arms. The gloves left faint red marks on his clean shirt as he cradled her head against his chest.

“Were you hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head.

Will stepped close to them and put a hand on Abigail's back. “You can tell us. It's okay.”

“I just wanted the three of us to have something special for Christmas,” she said, voice slightly muffled as she looked up at Will. “I wanted to cut down a tree, and I saw - I know I saw someone cutting fir trees from the edge of the hunting preserve. So I thought I could… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Abigail.”

“He must have told me to stop,” she said. “But he came from the side I can't hear from very well. So the tree was down by the time he came up to me. He was furious. Said he was going to call the police. What if they recognized me? What if they found you, either of you? I couldn't… let him.” She sniffled and hid her face in Hannibal's shirt. “He was a hunter. He had a gun. I took it when he was looking for his phone. And then I… I…” Tears filled Abigail's eyes again. “We’re going to have to move, aren't we? And it's all my fault.”

“We might not have to,” Hannibal said. “We’re here to help you with this, Abigail. Will and I will make it so this won’t hurt you. We’ve dealt with this before, haven’t we? Remember Nicolas Boyle?”

Abigail nodded, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “He’s in the back of the van with the tree and his gun. I turned off his phone and buried it in the snow a little ways into the forest. The blood was hidden by new snow by the time I got back. I… I didn’t know what to do with the body.”

“You were right in bringing it to me,” Hannibal said stepping back and looking to the front door. “Will, could you help us?”

Will nodded, following Abigail and Hannibal out into the cold. The van was still running and Christmas music spilled out into the air as she opened the tailgate. The man lay dead atop a coat of hunting camouflage, his face and the back of his head opened by a close spray of buckshot. Beside him was the rifle that killed him and a deep green pine tree.

“Your biological father and I have some different opinions about how much of the body we can use,” Hannibal said, his arm around Abigail. “He felt that every part of the body should be used to pay respect to the being that has died for us. I feel that we only need some parts of him to elevate him in culture and elegance into something beautiful that he never could have achieved in life. What can’t be cooked we’ll put in the incinerator. Is that alright?”

“Yes Papa.”

“Will, can you help us?”

Will stepped forward and helped Hannibal lift the body out of the van. He was heavily built and taller than any of them. And as Will and Hannibal carried the body around to the back of the house Will couldn’t help but to think of the amount of meat they would be able to collect off of him compared to the small meals that Randall Tier had made. The thought sat at the forefront of his mind, jarring in its grotesque familiarity.

There was a soft sniffle behind Will and he looked to see Abigail following him, the saw and the hunter’s bloodied coat in her arms.

“We’re here for you, Abby. You’ll be alright. After we finish this we can even set up the tree just like you planned.”

She smiled sadly up at him and nodded. “I’d like that.”

Will laid the hunter’s body on the picnic table and stepped back, watching as Hannibal stripped the hunter of his shirt. He took the saw from Abby and drove the blade down through muscle and bone. The color of his hands turned splotchy in the cold, heavy clouds of breath forming on his lips. When he looked closely Will could see the faint traces of steam rising from where the hunter’s blood met freezing air. Will crossed his arms, the cold starting to get to him as well.

“Abigail,” Hannibal said. “I'll need the large stainless steel bowl from the kitchen, could you get it for me? Then you should set up the tree in the living room, it's freezing and you've been outside for long enough.”

“Yes Papa.”

Will watched as Abigail disappeared into the house, leaving the blood-covered coat behind. He picked it up, turning it in his hands.

“I’ll turn on the incinerator.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Put on a coat, Will,” Hannibal said, pulling the blade over the ankle of the hunter’s severed leg. “You’re going to catch pneumonia.”

Will stood not too far away, holding himself and trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “I feel like I need to see this. Besides, I’ve been carrying what you’ve been handing me. If I get too much blood on my coat I’ll need to get rid of it. And I only have the one. And it’s not like you’re wearing yours.”

“Exactly. We don’t both need to get sick.”

The foot disconnected from the leg and landed with a dull thump on the ground. Without prompting, Will picked it up and carried it to the blazing furnace.

“Then get me my knife block from the kitchen so I can cut out what organs we need and then help Abigail with the tree. The rest of him I’ll fit into the incinerator just fine.”

“What will you make out of him?”

“Everything. Dinuguan, steak and kidney pie, lomo saltado, every cut of steak, ribs… but with the amount of fat on him I think it’s best if we start with a simple stew. It’s a long cook, but it’ll give us a nice meal for Christmas tomorrow.”

Hannibal paused in his carving and looked up at Will. As soon as he stopped his hands started shaking in the cold. Will smiled and put his hands over Hannibal’s, holding him still.

“I can’t feel you,” Will said. “My hands are too cold.”

“I can barely feel you.” Hannibal leaned in and kissed Will on the cheek. “You’re freezing. You’ll need to have Abigail help you build a fire in the fireplace if you want to warm up properly. Your hands are clumsy when they’re cold and I can’t imagine them striking matches like this.”

Will smiled and kissed Hannibal on the back of the neck before letting himself back into the house through the back door. The house smelled of popcorn and Abigail sat beside the tree, carefully stringing fluffy white kernels onto a long white thread. She smiled up at Will.

“I… um… I couldn’t really find ornaments. At least, none that Hannibal would approve of.”

Will smiled and blew warm air into his hands, looking over to the fire already blazing in the fireplace. “He does have expensive taste.”

“Wanna help?”

“Once I can feel my fingers again I’ll be right there. Hold on.”

Will stepped into the kitchen and picked up the knife block that Hannibal kept next to the sink. Sitting on the counter were homemade candy canes, gingerbread men, and a half-dozen trays of sugar cookies, cut into wreaths and deer and covered with colored sugar crystals. He traced his hand along the handle of the flour-dusted rolling pin. He and Hannibal had never celebrated Christmas together before. He always imagined that Hannibal would be the sort of person to throw an extravagant party. Food would overflow every table and a string quartet would serenade his elegant guests from a cozy, dimly lit corner of the parlor.

It was far from the sort of thing that Will ever wanted for himself, but his heart beat a little faster when he thought of Hannibal in the middle of it all. A man at home in his element.

He turned to head back outside, but Abigail was standing in the archway to the kitchen. She smiled up at Will, Hannibal’s apron in her hands.

“I almost stepped on this when I came in,” she said, hanging it from its hook near the pantry and dusting it off. “Da? Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Will Papa be sleeping on the couch tonight?”

Will smiled and leaned against the archway. “You figured us out, haven’t you?”

“You aren’t subtle. Coming downstairs together. Papa leaving his apron on the floor like that. I’m guessing this is recent.”

“Recent and about two and a half years of anticipation.” Will cleared his throat and glanced between the back door and Abigail. He had to get the knives to Hannibal, but yet… “Would you like to talk about it?”

She shrugged. “Just between you and me, I always thought that Papa always talked about you like you were his husband. He was always so sure that wherever we went that you would follow, because that’s what family does for each other. When you were in prison I thought he was being presumptuous, but once he told me about what you were like after you were out… everything felt like it was falling into place. The three of us having a life together just made sense.” Abigail leaned against the pantry and forced a soft laugh. “I never saw Mom and Dad hug even once. They worked, they came home, they slept. That was all. It wasn’t a tumultuous marriage or anything like that; it was more of a… silent partnership. And, really, I always wondered what it would be like to have parents who actually loved each other.”

Will thought about this for a moment before nodding and going back outside with the knife set. He returned a minute later to stand in front of the fire, still shivering slightly as he watched Abigail hang another strand of popcorn on the tree. His freezing hands had started to return to their proper color, the bright red blush slowly vanishing. He glanced over to his desk of fishing flies, hoping that he would never be able to separate the fur and feather-covered one he was making from this night. Through the window he could see Abigail’s van, the interior lights still on.

“Abby? Is the van still running? Is a door open? You don’t want the battery to die.”

“Oh! Of course, right.”

She pulled on her coat and disappeared through the front door as Hannibal opened the back. Hannibal’s arms and hands were bloody, his shirt stained. The large metal bowl he carried was filled with meat and organs, vaguely organized by cut. His cheeks were red and he seemed breathless as he leaned back against the door until it shut with a firm click.

“Is everything taken care of?”

Hannibal nodded. “The bones will take a while to turn to ash, but it’s certainly hot enough. I shoveled the blood covered snow off the patio. It doesn’t look like anything happened there at all.”

“Good good. Come warm up with me.”

“I need to get this bagged and into the freezer,” Hannibal said, nodding at his bowl. “But I will soon. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Will was reluctant to stray far from the fireplace, but the thought of following Hannibal into the kitchen was tempting. He knew Hannibal didn’t like being interrupted while cooking, but he was sure that the company of a warm body could only be welcomed.

There was a cold gust of wind as Abigail came back in, a large and beautifully wrapped box in her hands. She approached Will and lifted it up to him.

“Lid,” she said.

“‘Lid’?”

“Lift the lid. I’ll hold the box.” She glanced up at Will’s puzzled look. “Quickly.”

Will followed her instructions and his eyes widened as he saw a small puppy with black and tan fur, its pointed ears slightly flopping over themselves. It looked up at him with large brown eyes and wagged its tail, barking softly and chirp-like. Will picked the small pup out of the box and cradled it in his arms, slowly sinking to the floor as the puppy looked wide-eyed around the house.

“I know leaving them was hard for you,” Abigail said. “I guess I never really forgot how teary-eyed you were when we drove away from the sitter’s, knowing that you had to leave them behind. I know Papa promised that someday we’ll return to get them all back. But until then… I… um… I know you’re not supposed to just give people pets as presents, but-”

“This is perfect, Abigail.”

Abigail sat cross-legged on the floor beside Will, who gently set the puppy down but refusing to let the small animal wander out of his reach.

“I thought that since dogs have always been part of your family that… that having one now would be good for you. It’s been an adjustment for all of us.”

“You’re already my family, Abby. You and Hannibal.” Will took the pup back into his arms, cuddling and petting. “But this is wonderful.”

“He’s only eight weeks,” Abigail said. “The shelter said that he might need a little extra attention since he’s so young, but he seemed so happy just to be held. He really likes people.”

“I’m calling him Encephalitis.”

Hannibal stepped out of the kitchen and immediately sat down beside Will, reaching down to scratch Encephalitis behind his ears.

“Oh, Abigail. Will.” Hannibal sighed, blood cleaned off his arms but his hands still red from the cold. “What am I going to do with you two? I never thought that anyone could talk me into agreeing to a dog.”

“Abigail, your Papa is a pushover,” Will said, picking up the puppy as it sniffed a bit too curiously at Hannibal’s bloodstained shirt. “Change out of your biohazard and take a shower.”  

“I will. I just wanted to see you with a puppy.”

Hannibal sat up and kissed Will on the temple before getting to his feet disappearing into the bathroom. A soft blush filled Will’s cheeks and he was unable to keep the corners of his eyes from crinkling happily. Abigail pet Encephalitis as she stood and returned to the delicate work of stringing popcorn. The fire crackled softly and curious sniffs turned to eager high-pitched barks.

“I have some dog food in the van,” Abigail said. “Along with his kennel, a collar and leash, and a tennis ball that’s too big for him yet. I would have gotten more but I was running short on cash.”

Will smiled, not taking his eyes off Encephalitis. “I’ve always made my own dog food, but the pre-made stuff will work until I’m able to talk with Hannibal about what meat I’ll be allowed to use for it. And we’ll get more toys for him along with a nice dog bed. I’ll have Hannibal to dip into his accounts; I don’t want you to have to worry about money. You already have enough on your mind. We all do.”

Abigail hung the last of the popcorn onto the tree by the time Hannibal had finished with his shower and dug a sweater out of the trunk of clothes he had been keeping in the master bedroom. Will lay on the floor beside the fireplace, petting Encephalitis, who groggily looked up at Hannibal from his position on Will’s chest.

“I suppose another night down here won’t hurt,” Hannibal said, unfolding the heavy quilts in his arms and laying them on the floor next to Will.

Will scooted onto the quilt, lifting his head as Hannibal placed a throw pillow beneath it. “He won’t like me leaving his side. We’ll stay down here tonight but he’ll have to join us upstairs tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s like you like sleeping on the couch.”

Hannibal shot Abigail a look as she quietly giggled from the lounge chair. “We’ll talk.”

“That means you’ll get to sleep in a bed tomorrow, Encephalitis.”

Hannibal unfurled another blanket and draped it over Will. “My compassion towards you is inconvenient, Will Graham.”   

“I love you too.”

Hannibal couldn’t help but to smile as he lay down beside Will, adjusting the blanket around them so it didn’t disturb the small puppy sleeping on Will’s chest. Will’s eyes drifted shut as he lay still and simply listened. Breaths slowed and steadied one after the other. Encephalitis first. Then Hannibal, who had moved close enough to Will so their legs were always slightly touching. And finally Abigail, who fell asleep with a soft sigh as she curled up in the chair.

Occasionally the last few logs in the fireplace shifted as the logs that were beneath them crumbled into a pile of ash. The snow continued to fall outside, the heavy gusts of wind dying down into an occasional breeze that did little more than change the steady descent of a few snowflakes. There were no cars on the road and the woods surrounding the small house were silent and still.

As he too drifted out of consciousness Will wished that each Christmas could be like this. Even when Encephalitis was too big to sleep on top of him anymore. Even when Abigail had someone who would rather they sleep in a bed. Even when he and Hannibal were too old to lie on the floor. If they could be together, it could be all he could ever dare hope for.


End file.
